the suggestion—never a condition—that I could transfer it to Amber when the time was right.
I’d allowed them to move in immediately, planning to sign over the deed as a wedding gift, a fresh start without the burden of a mortgage. Amber had never questioned the arrangement. She’d never asked about the property’s ownership.
She’d simply accepted, the way she’d always accepted my sacrifices—with an entitlement I’d mistaken for confidence.
At home, I kicked off my sensible heels and sat at my kitchen table, surrounded by wedding preparations. My mother-of-the-bride
